


Jail Birds

by Euphoric_Mania



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 05:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euphoric_Mania/pseuds/Euphoric_Mania
Summary: Do not try to out-drink a brewmaster!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my OC Kelethas Lightspear. He is my belf paladin, and I'm sure he kind of hates me right now, but he was the perfect candidate for this story. Mo'shu Thunderpaw is also an OC. He is a recurring nightmare for Kel.

Kelethas Lightspear was a blood elf, a paladin, and a straight laced gentleman. He was a skilled fighter, and a good officer, well known for his sharp and calculating mind and tactics in battle, and was well liked by his men. When he wasn't fighting the Alliance dogs or routing blood trolls in Nazmir, he enjoyed simple activities that let him hang up his sword and use his mind. He was a precise individual, and found comfort in order and good organization.

He was also just a man, though, and men could not live on battlefields endlessly without rest, which is why when- after defeating Jaina Proudmore and her allies and driving them into retreat, he took the chance to go home and recover.

It was the first decent stretch of leave Kel had had in months. He had just a bit of business to attend to in Orgrimmar, and then he fully intended to go home to Silvermoon and sleep in his own bed, in his own home, for about a week. The business itself was easy enough to attend to, a simple filing of reports with high command in Grommash Hold. When that was through he wandered the streets of Orgrimmar for a while, just enjoying being able to walk around without a care in the world.

He found himself in The Drag, a busy marketplace centered around businesses, traveling merchants hawking wares and vendors selling food. The smells of cooking, of animals, of the general populace (not the most pleasant combination) vied with the senses along with the noisy shouting of hagglers, the insistent clucking of chickens, and the noisy clattering of some new and probably life-threatening goblin invention. A tavernkeeper nearby opened his doors wide and set out a heavy sign, upon which was painted a listing of available potables. Imported bloodberry wine was on that list, and that tugged at temptation.

Feeling in high good humor, and in a degree of relaxation he hadn't felt in a long while, he thought a glass of wine before the portal home wouldn't go amiss, and he cheerfully walked inside.

Halfway through the glass of dark rich wine (which he was thoroughly enjoying), he was joined at the bar by an enormous male pandaren. He dropped a huge bag at his feet and leaned against the bar with his elbows on the polished wood, jostling Kel's arm and nearly overturning his glass.

Kelethas turned to the new arrival, prepared to make some acerbic comment about personal space, but felt the words die in his throat as he found his eyes traveling upwards to behold what proved to be a very big man.

Though the pandaren had the usual rotund belly and rounded face that their race tended to have, this man wasn't soft in the least. He was bull necked, with shoulders as broad as a barn door and had massively muscled arms that could probably have snapped the paladin in half had he been of a mind to do such a thing.

Having heard the choked noise made by the blood elf, the pandaren turned to look at him. He had a scar on his face that split his lip, revealing a curved and gleaming fang. He reached up and removed the woven conical hat from his head. 

“Beg pardon,” he murmured, in a voice that rumbled like a bass drum.

The paladin was by no means a coward in any way- had, in fact, prided himself on his stalwart constitution in the face of intimidating situations- but for some reason he felt the sudden prickle of sweat breaking out along his spine.

“It's all right!” he said quickly. “Serves me right for sticking my elbows out!” 

Wait, why was he apologizing?

A slow smile turned up the corners of the pandarens mouth. “The name's Mo'shu,” he said by way of introduction. He spoke in a lazy drawl, which Kel found irritatingly informal for someone who had just nearly spilled a strangers drink. Mo'shu held out his hand, and Kelethas found his own engulfed in a paw the size of a dinner plate. “Let me buy you another drink to make amends,” he suggested. “I know I can sometimes take up a lot of space, and that can offend some folks.”

Well... it hadn't been his intention to have more than one drink, but... the wine was a very good year, and the stranger had just offered to pay.

What could go wrong?

***

Waking up felt like his mind was swimming through a sea of thick honey, while someone pounded a variety of gongs and other obnoxious metal objects directly against his brain. He felt his body twitch as consciousness returned, the spasmodic jerk of a man who was starting to wish he was a corpse. He blinked, and his eyes felt crunchy, gritty as sand. Like beach sand, with the little tiny shells mixed in. He could hear his face blinking. It was... ungh.

The light was too bright. Everything echoed weirdly.

He pried his eyes open, wishing he could order a new pair of eyeballs, because these ones weren't working properly. The world was blurry and he felt certain they didn't match up perfectly with the holes in his skull. The skull that was vibrating with a truly awesome headache.

The piercing beam of light that was shining directly on his face slowly evolved into a narrow rectangular window.  
“Kel,” someone murmured nearby. “Kel'thas.”

He grunted. The sounded thundered in his ears. Maybe he shouldn't make that sound again.

“You wa'e?”

“Ung?”

“Wa'e up.”

“Wha?”

“We in jail.”

Jail. What?

The window. It had bars.

Oh. Like, jail jail.

Slowly, like a snail, his hand crept out and found the edge of the surface he was lying upon, and he was able to roll himself over and sit up. A bunk. He was sitting on a bunk. Hard and wooden. Before him was a cell, lit only by the beam of sunlight from the barred window, dark in the corners. He blinked owlishly. His tongue felt like the floor of an Orgrimmar tavern. Speaking of Orgrimmar...

He inhaled deeply. Sunwell preserve him... the smell.

Yeah. He was definitely in Orgrimmar.

The voice belonged to the huge pandaren who, he was fairly sure but not one hundred percent certain he was remembering correctly, went by the name of Mo'shu- he couldn't actually remember precisely when he'd met this person, but he did recollect, in a few very foggy details, drinking with him.

Mo'shu was sprawled face down on the dirty stone floor of their cell. Judging by the wet stain under his jaw, he looked to have been drooling there for several hours. Kelethas- he remembered his own name finally- wiped at his own mouth. He'd been drooling too- really dignified- and his mouth hurt. When he licked his lips, they were dry and cracked, and the bottom one was swollen and cut. It stung painfully when he touched it with his fingertip. Exploration with his tongue discovered two front teeth that were looser than they should be. He felt very thirsty.

“What even happened?” he asked, but it came out more like an extended moan. It took enormous effort to make his mouth move properly to form the words. He had communicated better through random grunting. “What... how... why we in here?”

Mo'shu rolled over with about as much grace as a dead and bloated riverbeast, and peered up at where he sat. He appeared to have trouble focusing, if Kelethas could judge anything by the way his eyes wandered in their sockets. His own eyes felt rather the same.

Mo'shu grunted out a sound that might have been a laugh. “Ya loo' li'e me!” he said.

“Huh?” 

“Shomeone's belted ya in th' faysh,” he said then. 

The slurring of his words was pronounced, and Kelethas was finding it hard to process what he was saying- but that may have been because he felt like his head had been crammed full of woolen socks and the contents of a goblin mechanic's toolbox. He felt of his face then and winced.

Mo'shu was not wrong. From what he could tell, both of his eyes were swollen, and when he touched his nose it felt like he'd been punched in the face- again. It was broken, crooked under his fingers. He looked down, and noticed dried blood on his jerkin, and something that might have been... food, once.

What in the name of all that is holy happened last night?! 

He didn't get time to ask the question again, because a big burly guard appeared at their door, and keys jangled loudly as he turned the lock. The orc swung open the steel barred barrier, and Kelethas felt the screech of the hinges rake at his very soul.

“Get up, you mongrels,” he ordered, and his tone meant business. 

“Where are we going?” Kelethas asked as he attempted to rediscover the feet at the ends of his legs, and that he had actual real muscles that allowed him to stand- mostly- upright.

The orc grunted but didn't explain, and they were then unceremoniously marched from the cell, through the rest of the jail where other hapless occupants sat in various stages of wakefulness (or not) and up some stairs into a small tower that overlooked the busy square beyond. There was a table, a fire in a brazier, and an angry looking bearskin rug with the head intact, glass eyes glaring at them from the middle of the room. A very cross looking orc in the armor of the city guard was looming near the open windows, silhouetted by the bright morning light. They were steered to face the open windows, which at the moment felt like staring directly into the sun, and were ordered to stand still. Well, as still as they could, anyway. There was a pronounced weave to the way he stood at the moment.

The orc, whom he assumed must be the captain of the city watch (and their current jailer), turned to scowl at them.

“Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you have caused?”

Kelethas coughed dryly to clear his throat. “I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I don't remember causing any trouble-” 

Mo'shu cut loose with an ear drum rattling belch, and laughed stupidly at himself. Kel was pretty sure he was still drunk. He vaguely remembered the man pounding two or three drinks for every one he managed himself.

The captain looked at them with disgust and walked over to the table, where there was a pile of papers scattered across the surface. “I have here the reports of all of your... exploits,” he said, and thumped his fist on the wood to command their wandering attention... well, Mo'shu's wandering attention. Kel was doing his best to just stand upright at the moment. “Among them include the charges for being drunk and disorderly, drunk in public, public indecency, brawling, and oh, let's not forget the official complaints of three separate tavern owners and a noodle cart vendor!”

Mo'shu chuckled and dug a huge elbow into his side, nearly knocking him over. He felt queasy. This wasn't going anywhere good for either of them. A feeling of pronounced wooziness washed over him.

“I never been drunk in m' life!” Mo'shu proclaimed loudly, slapping his belly. He laughed again, because that was obviously not true. The orc's orange eyes flashed and he scowled even more than he already was. Orcs were damned good at scowling.

“Well, since you find this so amusing, let's see what you've been up to!” He picked up a report and read off it. “Witnesses report seeing a blood elf and a pandaren, both male, exiting The Swanky Swine at approximately half past five, arm in arm and both clearly inebriated.”

Kelethas scrunched up his face (and then instantly regretted it). The Swanky Swine? The Swanky Swine?! He'd been drinking in a place called The Swanky Swine? 

“The men in question then proceeded to stop at every drinking establishment along the main street of The Drag, proclaiming loudly to all who could hear that they were going to drink every bottle and brew in Azeroth.”

That would explain the epic hangover, Kel thought muzzily. At this point he noticed the room starting to swing around, and he shut his eyes to try and block out the piercingly bright light.

The orc picked up a second sheet with a rustle of parchment. “The owners of The Burnished Barrel, The Broken Keg, and Cavern Hold Brews have lodged complaints about a blood elf and a pandaren- both male- who entered their place of business while drunk and proceeded to consume more alcohol than they could pay for, before then instigating a fight when the subject of gold was mentioned.”

He shuffled papers. “Cavern Hold Brews has enclosed a bill for four hundred and thirty gold worth of alcohol, and a very specific statement banning both of you from their premises.”

Kelethas was starting to feel quite sick. Four hundred and thirty gold! Light save him, he didn't know it was even possible to drink that much!

Another paper. “The owner of The Broken Keg states that after multiple drinks, the blood elf interrupted a minor confrontation between a Nightborne elf and a troll- also both male- to say, quote 'You shouldn't insult a lady like that!' The Nightborne elf was then witnessed turning and striking the blood elf with a single blow to the face, knocking him to the floor. All four patrons were then escorted from the premises, and it was noted that the blood elf was bleeding profusely from his nose.”

The orc looked at Kelethas's blood stained clothing, clearly broken nose and twin black eyes, and snorted before he continued. “The owner of The Burnished Barrel has left an account of how a blood elf and a pandaren- both male-” (Kelethas had no idea why he kept repeating that, it wasn't like he had suddenly forgotten he'd been born a male) “-had entered their establishment in a slovenly state, laughing loudly, and began quaffing drinks at an unseemly rate. A fight ensued when another patron bumped into the pandaren, who then started a brawl. They've oh so kindly enclosed a list as long as my arm of damages for broken property and damage to the premises.”

A flash of memory surfaced through the churning soup that was his brain- him, hefting a chair, a table flying past- a flurry of blurred images that swirled with faces and fists. Breaking glass. Angry shouting. That was probably where he'd gotten hit in the mouth. He glanced at his hands and noted his knuckles were bruised. This was looking really bad.

“Surely not,” he said weakly, feeling his stomach starting to turn flips, but he very much doubted there was a way either of them could talk their way out of this.

“They had it comin',” Mo'shu said, and now Kel was wishing he could dig a hole in the floor and pull the furious bearskin rug over himself. 

The orc had never stopped glaring at them. Another piece of paper came into play. It was all starting to feel very surreal as he continued reading. “The subjects in question were then witnessed by multiple individuals exiting The Burnished Barrel and crossing the main road to the pond, where they- to repeat one choice observation- '...stood up on the edge of the frog pond, let fly with their snakes, and started pissing into the pool in full view of the gods, singing of women and wine.'”

Mo'shu found that utterly hilarious and began roaring in laughter, but Kelethas felt the blood drain out of his head. Kill me now, he thought. He was regretting having ever met the stranger in the tavern. He shouldn't have bothered with the wine. He should have just gone straight home. His reputation would never recover. Oh gods, his life was over.

“But that's not all, is it?” the watch captain said, and by this point Kelethas knew his growing nausea was going to create an incident if he didn't reach a bucket or something soon. The captain dropped the stack of papers he was holding and picked up another one. “Not content with gross indecency, the pandaren and blood elf then accosted a nearby noodle cart vendor, whereupon the blood elf was witnessed by a line of customers slapping the rear end of the female pandaren vendor and asking her to 'Check out my noodle', before vomiting violently into a vat of broth.”

If he'd been pale before, he wasn't now. Kelethas felt himself flush red hot, from the back of his neck to the tips of his ears.

The orc dropped the papers to the desk finally. “But don't fret. She's not pressing charges for indecent contact. She's given you a bill for the spoiled soup of course, but has, if I'm not mistaken, provided her address for your... personal... gratification.”

Mo'shu was no help at all, and at this point was laughing so hard he had actually fallen over.

Kelethas made a desperate dash for the open window and threw up.

***

Three days later...

“What the fel happened to your face?”

Kelethas stared at his sister Vesaria and didn't know where to start. 

Three days, several hours of community service, and a significant amount of gold later (thankfully split between him and Mo'shu), Kelethas had finally made it home- four days later than he had told his sibling he would arrive for his much deserved leave. All he wanted right now was a hot bath, and his bed, and a chance to hide away from the world and forget the events that had given him two black eyes and a broken nose (thankfully reset and healed by an Orgrimmar healer, although it would be slightly crooked for the rest of his life).

“It's... complicated,” he muttered, as he trudged in through the front door of their family home, feeling a disreputable mess. 

It was way more than complicated, though. Over the time it took him and Mo'shu to serve out their (well deserved) punishment, rumors about their exploits had spread across the entire city, until they heard total strangers telling wild tales that were completely untrue about the things they had gotten up to. It hadn't taken long for fellow soldiers who he served with to bump into him and ask him about what happened. No matter how he tried to explain, it didn't stop the winks, nudges and ribald jokes at his expense. 

If he heard another stranger say “Hey, you're that blood elf who-” he would probably give up life as a paladin and become a monk and go live somewhere alone where he'd never be seen again. His ears haven't been their normal color since he got back from Zuldazar- they just felt permanently flushed red. He was fairly certain he would never live any of this down. And Mo'shu- Mo'shu seemed to enjoy every minute of it, and if Kel ever saw that pandaren again it would be too soon.

“Oh really,” Vesaria said, in that slow, drawn out “I'm here to irritate my sibling” way, which he suddenly remembered was actually very annoying.

Kel headed for the small suite of rooms at the back of the house that he called his own. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“I figured you'd say that,” she said, and he could hear the evil grin she wore. “But before you disappear, tell me- how was your date with the pandaren?”

Kel slammed the door to his small sitting room, leaned against the wall, and buried his face in his hands.

He was never touching alcohol again!


	2. Mo'shu's Special Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelethas finds himself caught up in more of Mo'shu's shenanigans- or rather, the aftermath of Mo'shu's shenanigans. I've had a couple people request a continuation of Kel's story, so... here it is. XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Refresher: Kelethas Lightspear is a blood elf paladin, and Mo'shu is a pandaren brewmaster monk. Beware of the “special brew”, the three pandaren women are actually sisters, and I leave the rest up to your imaginations! XD

Light filtered in through the thin curtains as they were stirred by the breeze from the open window beyond, the sunbeams playing over the face of the sleeping elf. Feeling the brightness of the sun, he grimaced, screwing his eyes up tight and turning his head aside. When the sunlight did not abate, he finally opened his eyes with some effort. Dazzled by the morning brightness, he squinted. Confused by his weirdly distorted vision, he tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings.

“Awhr, my head...” he groaned, lifting an arm that weighed like lead and covering his eyes with his hand to block out the burning light.

The pounding headache was his first clue that all was not right in the world of Kelethas Lightspear. It felt like a team of dwarves was busy pickaxing their way out of the top of his skull. As other parts of his body started checking in with the utter shambles that was his nervous system this morning, he felt a terrible sinking feeling.

That's not good, he thought.

The last time he had woken up feeling like this, he'd been in a jail cell in Orgrimmar, with Mo'shu, after they'd gone on such a rager the night before that Kel's memories of their exploits had been almost completely obliterated. He'd then been forced to listen, with growing terror and humiliation, to the long list of misdemeanors he'd committed while under the influence of far more alcohol than anyone- much less himself- should have been able to consume. Anywhere. Ever.

That had been weeks ago though. He'd made painstaking efforts to stay out of trouble and away from Orgrimmar in general since then. Or... at least, he had tried.

He opened his eyes again, and peered up through the shadowed cage of his fingers. A curtained canopy hung over where he lay. It looked rather like the one the hung over his own bed at home. That was reassuring. At least he wasn't in the drunk tank this time.

He was lying flat on his back, which was fine. He usually slept like that. There were no blankets, though. Somehow he'd managed to kick all of those off himself, which wasn't entirely unreasonable on a hot night. The pillows seemed to be gone too... but he might have knocked them away while he slept. It was possible.

Something brightly colored near by caught his eye- it was hanging off one of the bed posts. He lifted away the hand that was shading his eyes and pulled at the object until it came away. Bright pink, lacy trimmed silk. Ladies lingerie. A very, ah... substantial lady's lingerie. 

The sinking feeling threatened to turn into a sucking whirlpool.

He wiggled his fingers and toes experimentally. The toes responded fine, but the fingers on his right hand felt unresponsive and swollen- his arm had gone to sleep. Dread rising up to clutch at his soul, he slowly rolled his head to the side, and felt himself go red from the tips of his ears to the soles of his feet, while simultaneously a voice in the back of his mind started begging for mercy and deliverance.

Head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, cuddled up close to his side and sleeping peacefully with a very satisfied look on her face, was a red-furred female pandaren. The voice in the back of his mind started screaming incoherently.

Slowly, Kel rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, wide eyed and stricken. He was frozen. He felt like someone had thrown a spanner into the gears of his brain and everything was just jammed, apart from the clanging alarm bells that something very, very, very wrong had occurred... but he couldn't remember what happened.

After several moments of laying there in abject terror, he tried lifting his head slightly and looked down along the length of his body...

...and cuddled up on his other side, with her head pillowed against his bare belly, was a second red-furred pandaren woman.

The screaming in his mind subsided into a whimpering voice moaning 'no no no' over and over. 

He was stark naked. No, actually, that wasn't completely true. Something was looped around one of his ankles, and when he cautiously lifted his leg to bring it into view, found a second piece of lingerie. Blue silk this time. Just as much lace. Even worse: hanging over the edge of the mattress beyond his feet was a third pair of panties, in violet, with little gold flowers on...

What have I done?!

He wanted to leap up and flee the scene, or just disappear in a cloud of smoke. He didn't want to move lest he wake up the women beside him. For a wild, desperate moment, he considering chewing his own arm off to escape unnoticed but... this was his own room. This was his own house. He lived with his sister, for Light's sake!! How do you escape from a place like that?! 

He threw his mind around in a desperate attempt to remember what had happened, but his mental flailing turned up... nothing. There was nothing. He couldn't remember anything. Except... no. Not nothing. A vague whisper of memory clung to the broken shards of his brain, of a big cheerful voice calling for a celebratory drink, and someone's special brew...

Special brew. Special brew. Mo'shu's Special Brew.

Sunwell save me. 

Although at this point he probably would have preferred to be drowned in the Sunwell instead.

Something stirred in the room beyond his bedroom, and from the small bath he called his own, the presumed owner of the third pair of panties walked out, yawning sleepily and carrying a glass of water. This one was also red-furred, was quite ah... substantial in every way, and as she walked naked back across the room, a long fox-like tail swayed out behind her with every stride. She seemed half asleep (was possibly as hung over as he was), her eyes barely open. She finished the water in the glass and set it aside on the chest of drawers, and then Kel watched, frozen in terror, as she crawled back onto the bed, wedged herself in between her sisters, and settled herself on top of him, her head resting against his chest. She yawned again and drifted off to sleep.

As Kel lay there clad in nothing but his own shame, effectively weighted down by three sleeping women who had clearly enjoyed his company (and a discrete escape now made completely impossible), he cursed himself, the universe, and the day he had met that damned Mo'shu!


End file.
